The person who stands accused of escaping is usually the alcoholic or the chronic gamer, the drug addict or the problem gambler, but who cannot be accused of escaping? Do people not escape by doing things that are productive and even socially beneficial? Workaholics are useful, they may even be prosperous and happy, but they are still escaping, so does the social animal who jumps from one rendezvous to the next, and so does the artist who carefully rearranges the products of her trained but spontaneous mind, and the student, formal and informal, when they immerse themselves in the thoughts of someone else, and the carpenter when they get lost in their quest for precision. So does the electrician, the mechanic, and the swimmer. That is, all hedonists, all professionals – in short, all types of people are escaping. But what from?
To understand, think about what happens when you’re not doing something. When you are sitting quietly, bored – it is often a strange barrage of thoughts, some random and slightly unfamiliar, others repetitive and all too familiar, that appear in a seamless series, sometimes they are welcome, more often, they are not. What appears in states of boredom is self-awareness, the wretched monster we long to avoid.
We have devised so many escapes from it, but what have we done to confront it, the same way we are taught to confront any fear we have?
Now, writing can also be an escape, but like meditation, it is one of the only forms of anti-escape. When you write, you are forced to contend with your thoughts. You cannot but be mindful, and yet it is only right that we examine how writing is also an escape. When you write, your brain follows an organized pattern of thought. Depending on who you are and what you are writing about, this can be extremely rigid. The more specific your subject, the more rigid, of course. And in that case, writing is an escape. You are not so much wrestling with your thoughts, as you are tricking your mind to be more predictable, if only for an hour or two.
But there is a form of writing that is undoubtedly the anti-escape, it is when you write down exactly what you are thinking, not because you willed yourself to think about those things, but because they happen to be the contents of your consciousness in that moment. And if you practice doing this for a while, a remarkable relationship emerges, that between your conscious and unconscious self – a mediation between what you know and what you don’t know.
I find meditation relaxing but difficult. As the thoughts come and go, I feel an urge to capture them, to examine where they came from, because I believe there is something deeper to them. That doesn’t mean meditation and writing should be mutually exclusive. They serve different functions. As one form of anti-escape, meditation allows you to observe your unconscious at work. You get to examine the ideas, hopes, fears, and memories that rise to the surface- without judgement. And this is therapeutic in its own way. You get to witness yourself without interruption. The second anti-escape, writing down these thoughts, is more focused and active. A combination of both methods would allow you to understand your psyche more deeply, and that is worth doing.